


no title we die like jack, screaming about how everyone else is wrong

by Nerd_of_Camelot



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anyways, Branding, Dubious Consent, Enthusiastic Consent, Everyone Has Issues, Explicit Sexual Content, Gentle Handsome Jack (Borderlands), Handsome Jack (Borderlands) Being an Asshole, Handsome Jack (Borderlands) is Trying, Heroes to Villains, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Jack Has Issues, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Instability, Morally Grey Handsome Jack (Borderlands), Morally Grey Timothy Lawrence, Mutual Pining, Not Beta Read, Not Canon Compliant, Revenge, Slow Romance, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, Timothy Lawrence is Trying, Torture, Unhealthy Relationships, Villains to Heroes, Workaholic Handsome Jack (Borderlands), and whose story you believe, listen they walk a very thin line between good and bad and it all depends on the context
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:55:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27737998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nerd_of_Camelot/pseuds/Nerd_of_Camelot
Summary: Jack had been different since the Vault debacle.And maybe Tim hadn't really known him before that, maybe he had no right to say if Jack was really acting any differently - maybe Jack had always been violent, and the bouncy, funny, charismatic guy Tim had met all those weeks ago was as fake as he was. But was he wrong to hope?Was he wrong to hope he wasn't working for, and wearing the face of, a monster?He didn't think so.And later, much later, he didn't think he was wrong to think Lilith had royally fucked everything up.
Relationships: Angel & Handsome Jack & Timothy Lawrence, Athena & Handsome Jack & Wilhelm (Borderlands), Handsome Jack & Timothy Lawrence, Handsome Jack/Timothy Lawrence, Lilith/Roland (Borderlands), Timothy Lawrence & Wilhelm
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	1. rollercoaster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so for reference the title is a placeholder lmfao and it'll change when i come up with a good one
> 
> also tags subject to being changed and shuffled around
> 
> anyway enjoy, i'll give context for this AU at some later point cuz i'm way too tired to do it right now

Jack had been… Different. Since the Vault debacle.

Now, maybe Tim had no room to say that. Maybe he had never really known Jack to begin with, and the bouncy, charismatic guy he'd met initially was an act. Maybe Jack had always been… Like this. Violent.

Hellbent.

The Merriff thing certainly implied that he had a violent streak, even if it had  _ really _ seemed like a first-time snap. Or at least a first-time direct murder.

Even if Tim didn't want to believe Jack was always like this. Even if he didn't want to think of Jack as someone who was capable of all these awful things. Even if he wanted to hope and pray that maybe he wasn't working for, and walking around with the face of, a heartless sociopath.

… Right now, he was a little short on hope.

“Jack,” He breathed, terrified, struggling to keep the tremor out of his voice as he backed up. Backed away, “Jack, what―”

“Just hold still.” Snapped Jack in return, still advancing.

Still advancing with that white-hot brand in his hand.

_ “Jack,” _ He barely managed not to yelp when he nearly tripped, knocking his heel on the edge of Jack’s nice, shiny new CEO desk, “Please, just tell me what you’re―”

He wasn’t expecting Jack’s response to be a furious snarl.

He wasn’t expecting his own response to that sound to be a whimper.

He also wasn’t expecting to promptly trip over his own feet, falling to the floor and not bothering to pick himself up completely. He was running out of room to back away, and he couldn’t run  _ around _ Jack without potentially getting shot in the back for it. So instead he just scrambled backward some more, heart pounding, terror turning his guts into snakes and sludge. Against his will, his throat closed up, eyes started to burn.

“Jack,” His voice was strained, stringy,  _ “Why?” _

Jack snarled again and―

Stopped.

Slammed the brand down onto the floor next to him, yanked the clasps on his mask and then the mask itself off his face and smacked it onto the desk.

And Tim had  _ been there _ when he  _ got  _ the awful scar marring his face, but it looked so much worse now than it had then. His face had healed around it, pulling and stretching at the edges of skin that would never heal correctly, skin that had been  _ dyed purple _ by the impact and had never turned the proper color again. And the snarl still pulling his lips over his teeth only served to make it look worse than it really was.

His stomach dropped through several floors of the station as he understood what the rapidly cooling brand  _ was. _

As he realized  _ why. _

“Please,” He breathed, backing up, back hitting the window, “Please don’t, Jack,  _ please,” _

Surprisingly, something about that reaction, something about his plea, seemed to get through to Jack. Because the man’s expression seemed to falter. Seemed to twitch. Until finally, suddenly, it crumpled completely.

And then he was on his knees right in front of Tim, staring at him with his one good eye, carefully shuffling forward. Tim’s throat was completely closed, vision going blurry, and he couldn’t have moved if he  _ wanted to _ and yet when Jack arrived at his feet his instinctively shifted his legs open and let the man shuffle in between them. He was trapped, now, completely ― back to the window, Jack nearly hovering over him and  _ staring _ with this intensity he couldn’t describe.

But he didn’t look angry.

He looked… More surprised, really, maybe a little hurt.

He leaned in closer, bracing himself on the window with one hand next to Tim’s head, and Tim fought not to flinch away from it. Didn’t manage not to flinch when Jack’s other hand moved toward his face a little too quickly, and he turned his head away and squeezed his eyes closed. Felt wetness on his face, on his lashes, and wanted to scream.

He hadn’t cried about anything in a long time.

He guessed it made sense that terror would be the thing that finally broke him.

He heard Jack suck in a breath, startled.

“Hey.” Was what he finally said, after a long, long moment of silence and stillness, as his hand landed very slowly on Tim’s cheek, “Hey, Tim. Timmy. Look at me.”

And he didn’t want to, didn’t want to at all, but saying no to Jack wasn’t really his strong suit.

So he peeked his eyes back open, and met Jack’s one good eye.

And it was about that moment he realized he was shaking, and so was Jack.

Jack’s thumb dragged slowly over his cheekbone, careful. Soothing. His other fingers curled under the edge of his jaw, applying no pressure at all. Just holding him.

Tim tried to suck in a breath, but the one he managed shook so hard he may as well have not taken it in the first place. He felt like he was on the moon again, low on oxygen and struggling to hold on until that next little OZ-field or atmosphere.

“Fuck,” Said Jack, softly, under his breath, “I― Shit. You’re terrified, huh?”

Tim’s first instinct was to glare at him, which shook a laugh out of his boss.

He wasn’t surprised. He didn’t imagine he exactly made an intimidating picture sitting there, below him, crying and shaking, struggling not to flinch at being touched.

“Shit,” Jack repeated, and he shifted even closer, knees sliding up under Tim’s thighs, “I― Let’s, let’s… Fucking hell. Let me…” He took his hand off the window, not that it mattered since he was still so far into Tim’s personal space that they were breathing each others’ air, and smeared the tears off of his cheek, doing the same to the other side, “There. There we go. Shit. I’m…  _ Tim.” _

He sounded nearly broken saying his name, strained and almost as scared as Tim was right now.

And this,  _ this _ was why Tim didn’t want to believe that Jack was a bad person.

Sure, some violence he responded to with glee. But when it mattered…

“Jack,” He croaked in return, searching his face and hoping.  _ Praying. _

And Jack seemed distressed by that, beginning to shake harder. Staring at him with his one good eye. Honestly  _ staring. _ Boring into him.

“... I  _ have _ to.” He finally breathed, “Tim.  _ Timmy. _ I  _ have to.” _

Tim’s first thought was that this was some trauma bonding  _ bullshit. _ But Jack looked so genuinely distressed, so  _ upset _ , sounded so  _ scared, _ that he didn’t think this was him justifying what he was trying to do. He didn’t think this was him just trying to convince Tim that he had to, that he had no choice.

He  _ genuinely believed _ he had to.

“Why?” He asked, weakly, fresh tears springing into his eyes.

“You―” Jack’s distress seemed to worsen as soon as his eye caught the tears, _“Timmy,_ your _face._ _My_ face. They’re― Tim. _Timmy.”_

Understanding dawned.

“They’re not the same,” He murmured.

He hated that he was right, and  _ knew _ he was right because of the way Jack’s distress worsened visibly  _ again. _

“I don’t― You―  _ Timmy. _ I have to! But you― I don’t―” His hands clenched, for half a second, but Tim flinched at the pressure and he let off  _ instantly, _ “They have to― Timmy they  _ have to match. _ You gotta― You have to― They’re not the  _ same, _ they have to be  _ the same!” _

Before Tim could respond, Jack was pulling away, getting up. Grabbing the brand even though it had cooled already.

“Jack!” He yelped, alarmed.

He was ignored, and Jack headed back to the blazing fire he’d warmed the brand in to begin with. Like this Tim could clearly see the Vault symbol on the end of it ― when it had been glowing with heat it had been difficult to discern the shape. But now he could see, and he  _ knew what Jack was doing. _

He could run, now.

He could run and he―

He wouldn’t get anywhere.

He knew that.

Jack thrust the brand back into the fire.

“Jack,” Tim didn’t manage to keep the whimper out of his voice, but he didn’t bother getting up or tearing his eyes away from the man either,  _ “Please.” _

Again, he was ignored.

He looked away from his boss, balled his hands into fists on the floor next to him, and let a sob shake him apart. All attempts at bravado, at staying calm, abandoned him that very second. He couldn’t run because he would get nowhere fast. He’d get shot before he got very far, either by Jack or one of the sentry turrets. So all he could do was cry and wait for the inevitable.

Footsteps approached. Jack settled back in between his legs. A hand curled under his chin, tipped his head up.

He sobbed weakly, more a shaking breath than anything, and opened his eyes to meet Jack’s gaze again.

“Please,” He whispered, as Jack lifted the brand, “Please, don’t. I’ll do anything, Jack,  _ please.” _

Jack hesitated.

Tim just had to try and pull all his luck and hope he could keep stalling until Jack either came back to his senses or gave up.

“Please,” He whispered again, “Jack, I hate begging, please just  _ don’t―” _

He cut himself off with a yelp, jerking backwards out of Jack’s grasp and smacking his head against the window when the brand moved a little too suddenly. But Jack had been pulling it back, and was now completely frozen. Staring at him. Staring past the haze of heat coming off the metal. Conflicted, distressed.

“I know,” Tim managed, choking on a sob, “I look pathetic. I sound pathetic. But  _ please.” _

“Tim,” And he still sounded so distressed, “Tim I  _ have _ to.”

And Tim, ever the improv specialist, had an idea.

“N-no one is ever going to see your face, Jack,” He tried, voice still shaking, still sobbing as he pushed on, “If- If I w-wear a mask like yours no one will ever, ever, ever know the difference.”

The hand holding the brand twitched.

He swallowed.

He pushed onward, “Please, Jack. It’s― It’s way less expensive to just get me the mask and ma― make me wear it all the time. You already paid for so much surgery for me and― and if you didn’t get surgery to reconstruct my eye you’d have to pay extra on the mask to make it like y-yours so I can still do my job.”

He knew money wasn’t an issue to Jack. Not as the CEO of Hyperion.

But money was Tim’s biggest motivator, and Jack knew that, and he was hoping,  _ praying _ that making it about being scared of Jack investing more money into him, making it about anything except fear of pain or fear of disfigurement, might keep Jack on his wavelength long enough.

Sure enough, Jack’s face twitched, and so did the hand holding the brand.

“Tim,” He said, still so distressed, “That’s not what you’re scared of.”

And Tim was hit with another fresh wave of tears that nearly buckled him. He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw so he wouldn’t sob outright in response. Slowly unclenched and managed a weak, shaking laugh as he said, “W― It was― It was worth a shot.”

He managed to pry his eyes back open, looking at Jack again.

Jack stared back.

“... Please.” He uttered, one last time, resigning himself to his fate.

Ultimately, even if Jack pulled back and went to reheat the brand again, this would be the last plea Tim made. He’d take whatever came after. There was no use in fighting any longer when Jack didn’t seem to be able to reason with himself.

And Jack lifted the brand again, and Tim took a deep, shaking breath and closed his eyes.

He felt the heat of the metal on his face and couldn’t stop the trembling that took hold of him from head to foot. This was going to hurt. This was going to hurt so bad.

And then the heat withdrew, very suddenly, and there was a distant sound of metal clattering across the floor.

His eyes snapped open.

Jack was still between his legs, but he was half-turned away, shaking just as hard as Tim was, staring across the room at where the brand now lay. He hadn’t thrown it far, but it had skidded a good distance ― hence the ruckus.

A knot of tension untied itself in Tim’s gut, and he was able to pull a fairly stable breath, then another. He was nearly gasping in― in what? Relief? Confusion? He wasn’t sure, but he knew he was nearly hyperventilating. Sucking in rapid, short breaths, staring across the room at the brand.

He slowly slid his gaze up to Jack.

And Jack slowly turned to look at him.

Conflicted, distressed.

“Tim,” He said, softly, and he reached out with both hands.

This time, Tim didn’t flinch. He couldn’t have if he wanted to, he didn’t think. He was kind of frozen. Startled. Unsure.

Jack swept his tears away again and, wow, damn, Tim had almost forgotten he was crying. No wonder everything was so blurry.

“I―” Jack took a breath, still shaking as he stroked Tim’s face, and Tim was shaking just as much. “Mask. I have a spare. Not as good as― as the one I usually wear, but it’s… It’ll work for you. You don’t need the― you can see fine.”

“Okay,” Tim breathed.

“You― You’ll have to get it. I need to― I have to put my face back on.”

“Okay,” He agreed, again.

“You have to stop crying first.”

“Working on it.”

A moment of silence stretched between them. Both of them slowly stopped shaking.

“There’s…” Jack paused, breathing deep, “There’s a tube of gel we’ll both need in my en suite bathroom. Mask’s on the desk.”

Tim nodded, but managed very little on that front, actually, due to Jack still holding his face.

As if realizing all at once what he was doing, Jack pulled away and stood back up. He offered a hand, and Tim let him help him up. Then, once he’d gotten Jack’s approval on his current appearance, he left the office to head to Jack’s penthouse.

What a fucking  _ rollercoaster _ today had been.


	2. keys

Jack was having some sort of crisis.

That was the first thing that Tim registered when he woke in the middle of the night.

Jack was off somewhere else in the penthouse having some sort of crisis.

He was cursing, there was some minor crashing and fumbling going on. It wasn’t loud ― not loud enough to have woken him up on its own. It must have been going on for a while, though, judging by just how worked up Jack sounded.

Tim’s bedroom was on the opposite side of the penthouse from Jack’s, across the living room and kitchen. The walls were far from soundproof, but they weren’t  _ thin, _ so if he was hearing Jack and his thumping through the walls and over the sound of the air conditioner, he  _ had _ to be pretty worked up.

Before he’d fully processed it, Tim was slipping out of bed in his boxers and exiting the bedroom.

He found Jack in his home office, rifling through the drawers of his desk like a man possessed. He was still cursing, cutting off frequently to mumble under his breath. It was upsetting to look at, really.

He was usually so composed, even when he was going off about awakening the Warrior and ‘saving’ Pandora that way. Even when he got  _ really mad, _ fucking  _ furious really, _ he didn’t act like this. He’d yell and curse, sure, but there was always a clear stream of consciousness. He didn’t stutter. He didn’t stumble over his sentence structure or curse anywhere near this much. He prided himself on being better than that.

“Jack,” Tim said, pushing down the part of him that was distressed at seeing Jack like this, as he leaned against the doorframe.

And Jack froze. Went silent.

Slowly turned to look at him ― he was lacking his mask, scar on full display, left eye sightless and empty while the right drilled into him. He was still half-dressed. Sweater and boxers. Socks.

“Timmy.” He said, slowly, surprisingly calm.

“Looking for something?” He quirked a brow.

Jack stared at him a moment. Then, turning away, “Put your face on, Timmy.”

It was still slow, calm. Each syllable was clean and precise.

And Tim had enough experience with a spiraling Jack by now to know that doing as he said right at this particular moment was the only way to move forward. So, sighing, he shrugged away from the doorframe, headed back across the penthouse, and spent a moment getting the mask situated on his face. Once it was in place, clasped and working correctly, he sighed again and headed back.

“Jack.” He said, taking up his place again.

Again, Jack froze and went silent, then slowly turned to look at him.

“What are we looking for?” He asked, before Jack could verbally acknowledge his presence.

“Bunker key.” Jack answered, plain and simple, no trace of his loud, angry cursing. No trace of his intermittent ramblings and stutters.

“Alright.”

And yeah, it was weird. It was unsettling and upsetting. But Tim didn’t get paid to ask questions. So he shrugged off the door again, entered the room properly, and began cleaning up.

He didn’t put any particular effort into searching for the key to the bunker, because he knew it wasn’t here. It was in  _ Tim’s _ office, taped to the underside of his desk. Jack knew that as well as he did ― he’d been the one to tell Tim to put it there. He’d even handed him the tape while he did it. But right now he was on a mission for it and didn’t seem to remember that particular fact, so Tim just cleaned up behind him, knowing it wouldn’t make any difference in the end. Jack would only remember that Tim was there, when this was done, as was the nature of all of his non-violent spirals, so Tim actually helping or not at this stage wouldn’t matter.

“It’s not  _ here!” _ Jack snapped, suddenly, flying right back into the anger as he slammed the final drawer shut, “It’s not― Timmy, it’s not  _ fucking here! _ Where is it? I  _ need it.” _

There were two responses to this that Jack usually accepted and was affected by ― the fearful response, and the calm one.

As Tim wasn’t particularly scared of Jack at the moment (even if the slam had startled him), he met his wide, intense right eye with both of his own and said, totally level, “I’m not sure, Jack. I’ll go check our other office for it, alright?”

Jack’s fury cracked like ice instantly, melting away without a second thought.

He said nothing, but Tim took it as an agreement anyway, and exited the room. Jack followed, and Tim suppressed an annoyed sigh. He would have to make a show of looking around ― Jack would remember this part, he was sure, and even if he didn’t he was paying attention now instead of blindly throwing shit out of his drawers. So he’d have to pretend he really didn’t know where it was right off hand.

Annoying.

But nothing he couldn’t work with.

They entered the office one after the other, and Tim flicked on the light.

He spent several moments hunting through drawers and boxes, making a show as he’d intended, remaining completely calm as he did so. It would look good to Jack, if he remembered, to see Tim not flying into hysterics as well. Not to mention, Tim had no problems staying calm.

Finally, closing the last drawer of the desk, he knelt and plucked the key from its hiding place. “There it is.” He said, straightening.

Jack lunged for him and the key almost instantly, and Tim carefully stepped behind his chair, clutching the key to his chest as Jack stopped short of the chair with a blink.

“Why do we need the key, Jack?” He asked, keeping his voice as level as he could.

That was the weirdest part of these things ― Jack responded best to “we” statements. He clearly knew who Tim was, and used “I” and “You” to refer to himself and to Tim respectively, but coming  _ from _ Tim he responded fairly normally to “I” statements and poorly to “You” statements, if he responded to them at all. “We” statements got the best reaction.

Jack blinked at him, cocking his head.

He was silent.

Tim let himself frown. “Jack.” He said, “I can’t give it up unless I know what we need it for. Remember?”

God, not using “you” was clunky as hell when it came to speaking directly to someone.

Jack blinked again, but realization dawned on his face after a moment. “I― Timmy.  _ Timmy. _ ” He paused, and then there was that calm, slow tone again, “Angel.”

“Is it time for the bi-weekly visit?” He arched a brow, knowing it wasn’t. Jack had gone to see Angel last week.  _ Twice. _ At Tim’s insistence.

“No,” Jack said, thankfully, “No. No, not― You know it’s not. It’s― Fucking shit. Timmy, no. You know. It’s― Worried. I’m worried. Haven’t― She’s not talking to me.”

“Okay.” He did not relinquish the key, “How long has it been since she said anything?”

“A day.” Jack’s brow furrowed, “A whole fucking day! Timmy, she doesn’t― She never―”

“Jack,” He cut him off, calmly, “We have her watching the Vault Hunters, remember? Working on finding Haven? We only gave her the assignment a week ago. She’s busy, she can’t talk to you every single day right now. We said it was top priority, even over talking.”

Jack opened his mouth. Closed it.

“I think we need to get back to bed, Jack.” Tim finally sighed, sympathetically, “It’s late. We can message Angel in the morning to make sure she’s okay. Alright?”

Jack slowly nodded.

“Okay. Awesome. Let’s get back to bed then, okay?”

Jack nodded again.

And he left the room.

Tim sighed, taped the key back to the underside of his desk, and left the office. Ensured Jack’s was adequately cleaned up as well.

He jumped when he turned to find Jack standing in the doorway, still looking like he was probably mid-spiral but definitely more present than he’d been before. He said nothing, just stared at him.

“Jack?” Tim lifted a brow, “I thought we agreed to go to bed.”

“You’re still up.” Jack grunted in response.

“Our office was trashed.”

He seemed to consider that a moment, then nodded. “Not trashed anymore. Bed.”

“Alright.”

Jack stopped him before he could return to his own bedroom, across the living room. He arched a brow again, and Jack averted his gaze.

“... With me.”

Having never dealt with this oddly vulnerable looking type of spiral before, Tim hesitated, then sighed. “Alright.”

And he let Jack drag him into the bedroom.

Jack stripped out of his sweater, tossing it into the hamper by the closet, and turned to Tim. And Tim was preparing to have to fall asleep in the mask, or lay here until Jack fell asleep at least, but Jack… Jack moved into his personal space, very suddenly, and then he was undoing the clasps on the mask  _ for _ Tim.

He pried it off of Tim’s face carefully, mindful of the spots where it typically stuck or pulled uncomfortably, and Tim felt his heart speed up.

By all means, it was nothing exciting. Jack was touchy in general, and seemed vulnerable at the moment so it would probably intensify that… But it  _ was _ weirdly intimate to have Jack taking his mask off for him.

He suppressed the way his breathing tried to pick up, forcing it to remain steady.

And then Jack was setting the mask aside, on his bedside table next to his own, face-down.

Foolishly, Tim thought that was probably the end of it. But of course he was wrong, and Jack looked to him again. Smoothed his fingers over Tim’s face now that it was bared to him, tracing the path of the scar he didn’t have and sighing out a mildly distressed noise.

“I can put it back on,” Tim offered, softly.

“... Sucks to sleep in, though.” Jack argued, still tracing his fingers over his face, following the line of his cheekbones, of his jaw, “I just… Keep expecting the scar.”

“I told you no one would ever know any better,” He tried for a gently teasing tone.

Thankfully, it got Jack’s lips to quirk upwards. “You were right,” He admitted, sounding a little relieved, “Again. Guess I’m not surprised. Gotta be smart to trick so many people into thinking you’re me.”

He felt a little warm at the praise, lips pulling up into a smile.

Jack’s own smile widened a little.

And then they were parting, and Tim could breathe normally again without forcing it. Jack climbed into bed on one side, and Tim hesitantly climbed into the space he’d left. Kept forgetting Jack had a king-size mattress, since he never came in here and personally chose to sleep on a double.

Jack rolled to look at him once he was situated with him beneath the covers, clearly  _ deliberately _ brushing his leg against Tim’s. He  _ had _ to be feeling vulnerable if he was being this touchy. It was the only explanation that made sense. So Tim said nothing about it and didn’t call attention to the fact that he’d noticed. Just returned the motion and watched Jack relax a little.

“You, uh,” Jack mumbled, finally, eyes roving over his face, “You were a redhead, yeah? Green eyes, freckles and shit?”

“I was, yeah.” He shifted to get more comfortable, wondering where this was going to go but ultimately deciding it probably didn’t matter. Jack never seemed to remember any spiral that wasn’t inherently violent (or at least didn’t remember the non-violent parts), so anything he said or did now likely wouldn’t matter in the long run. “Same shade of green as yours, too. I remember the doc was ecstatic he only had to fuck with one of them.”

Jack snorted a little, closing his eyes, “Did you have a lot of freckles?”

“Everywhere, pretty much. They still come back sometimes if I’m not careful about how much sun my face gets.” He paused, “Not that it’s much of a problem anymore with me wearing the mask all the time, now.”

A hum. “I always thought I’d look good with freckles.”

“Well, next time I accidentally tan my face and get a patch of them, I’ll let you find out for sure.”

Jack laughed.

And then it was quiet.

And eventually, the two of them drifted off to sleep.

Blinking himself awake and seeing Jack staring at him wasn’t something he anticipated getting used to, or something he anticipated ever enjoying if he did get used to it. In fact, it was very unsettling the first time, that next morning. Had his heart hammering the moment he was half-aware and figured out he was being stared at.

“... Why the fuck are we both in my bed?” Was what Jack finally asked, not angry but definitely not yet particularly amused.

“You got worried about Angel and wouldn’t lay down until I convinced you to message her in the morning and came and laid down with you.” Tim grumbled in response as he sat up, wincing a little. “You were kinda weird about it, not gonna lie.”

Jack grimaced ― a face that did not look particularly charming with the scar ― and grumbled something under his breath as he sat up as well. “Gettin’ real fuckin’ sick of that shit.” He added, where Tim could hear, “But you’re not dumb enough to lie to me about it so I guess it’s happening no matter what. How weird are we talking? And why was I worried about Angel?”

“Touching my face and asking me if I had freckles before this weird.” He slid out of bed, grabbing his mask from the bedside table, “Like, took the mask off of me and then kept touching my face. Kinda creepy.” And, seeing Jack screw up his face and cringe so hard he seemed like he wanted to fold in on himself like an accordion, he moved on, “And apparently she hasn’t messaged you or talked to you in a whole day so you were convinced she was in some kind of danger. You were tearing your office apart looking for the key to the bunker.”

Jack blinked, utterly unimpressed and maybe a little embarrassed, “The, uh… The key that’s in  _ your _ office? Taped to the underside of your desk?”

“Yep.”

Jack promptly placed his head in his hands and groaned.

“I was just going to go grab it myself and bring it to you and then put it back if you couldn’t give me a good reason why you needed it, but you followed me in so I had to act like I didn’t know where it was.” He snorted, “You had this look that said if I showed I knew where it was the whole time and let you keep looking for it anyway, you were probably going to strangle me.”

“Did you end up giving it to me?” Jack uttered from behind his hands.

“Nah. Convinced you she was just busy and you could reach out to her in the morning. And then, well, you showed back up in your office while I was putting your shit back where it belonged and dragged me in here with you.”

Jack was quiet a minute before he pulled his head from his hands and sighed. “Alright. Weird, but not awful. Didn’t try to burn your face off his time, at least. Guess I don’t care if you don’t.”

“I’ve done much worse things than having to fall asleep in your king-size bed with you.” Tim snorted again, “And it kept you from getting back up and going into another spiral, so.”

“... That what we’re calling those?” Jack raised a brow.

Shrugging, Tim said, “I figure ‘spiral’ probably fits better than anything else, considering there’s a clear drop in the  _ everything _ about you that has you circling the drain until something calms you down.”

“But it’s not always bad,” He was squinting, but it wasn’t necessarily a protest. More a question, phrased as a sure statement.

“Not always. Last night was a tame one, for instance, and there was one a couple weeks ago where you just stood in the kitchen with no pants on asking why the fuck we owned so many spices for two hours until I got you to go sit down.”

“I remember that one,” Jack snorted, “A little, at least. Mostly I remember the ‘suddenly being on the couch’ bit, but I kinda remember you looking very unenthused for a very long time.”

“You went in there at seven to cook and then stood there for two hours,” Tim rolled his eyes, “Of course I was unenthused. Regrettably the one thing I’ve yet to leech out of you for my own purposes is your cooking skill.”

It got Jack to more or less descend into cackles, allowing Tim to make his retreat.

That had felt… Nice.

Not just the not-sleeping-alone part, either.

He stood in his bathroom for a long moment, tracing his fingers over his cheekbones, his jaw, following the general pattern that Jack had taken to. If he closed his eyes he could almost imagine that Jack was actually the one doing it. And he hated the way his heart sped up at the thought alone. At the memory of Jack’s touch on his face, of laying in bed with him.


	3. ridiculous

A thump and a curse drew Tim’s already strained attention from his book with very little effort, and he sighed deeply as he sat his ECHO aside and got up. He could try this chapter again later, he guessed, when Jack was done having a crisis. He wasn’t going to get anywhere with it until then, anyway. Bad idea to focus on other things if Jack was spiraling.

Mostly a bad idea for him, personally, because not paying attention could get him strangled from behind if he wasn’t careful enough.

Jack wasn’t anywhere near as much a danger to himself during a spiral as he was to Tim.

“You okay?” He called, before he finished getting up, just to check and see if Jack actually responded. If he didn’t, it was likely Tim would have to go run interference.

“I’m good,” Jack called in reply, and honestly? Tim almost sat back down.

But going to check on his boss anyway was common courtesy, so he didn’t.

“You sure?” He asked, “That was a loud thump.”

“My shirt fell,” Came Jack’s immediate response.

Tim noticed it sounded awfully muffled. He squinted as he headed for the CEO’s bedroom, “Sounded heavier than that.”

He arrived in the bedroom and saw Jack laying face first on the floor, ass in the air, arms flat on the ground at his sides with his palms up, right as Jack managed, “I was in it.”

“I can see that now.”

Truthfully, he had to bite down on the inside of his lip to keep from laughing. Jack could be so  _ clumsy _ sometimes. Like, for a guy who insisted on seeming put-together and strong, Tim had seen him trip more often than he’d seen anyone but himself trip in his entire life. Over his shoes, over bumps in the rug, over  _ air. _

Speaking of bumps in the rug, he could tell that was the culprit this time, given the position of both the bump in the rug and Jack’s left foot.

What a ridiculous guy.

Tim couldn’t believe he was  _ scared _ of him.

Like.

How the  _ fuck _ was this the same guy?

He bit down harder to suppress the new wave of amusement, thanking his lucky stars that Jack wasn’t spiraling right now. Could this lead to one? Sure. But thank God he wasn’t doing it already.

“Friggin’ rugs, man,” Grumbled Jack, who made no effort at all to get up.

Tim couldn’t blame him ― it had been a long day for both of them. Long for Tim because he’d just arrived back on Helios after a week-long jaunt down to Pandora to check on Angel and fix up the Bunker since Jack trusted only Tim and himself to do so. Long for Jack because it turned out running a company was kind of hard when you constantly had to hire new employees because they kept getting eaten by Threshers even after they’d be warned against every action that would lead to them being eaten by Threshers.

Why bother getting up when lying down was so much easier?

He sighed, internally.

This was his boss. This was the guy he worked for. The guy he―

He stomped the thought out viciously before it went any further, cheeks tinging red. Thankfully the mask would hide the reaction for now.

He stepped carefully over the floor, and over Jack, kneeling in front of him and offering a hand. Jack eyed him for a moment, then slowly took his hand and let him help him up.

“You got awful gentle there.” Jack commented, dryly, once he was standing.

“Did I?” Tim asked, because that was news to him.

“Got this dumb, dopey look on your face.” He confirmed.

“Hm.” He wanted to smack himself for not controlling his expressions better. “Guess I’m just used to dealing with you when gentle is about the only way to ensure I don’t get shot in the face.”

Jack squinted, then shrugged. “Fair.” Then, “... You really think I’d shoot you in the face?”

Surprisingly enough, he almost seemed upset. Tim guessed that made sense ― Jack liked to come across as a hero, liked being the good guy… Having Tim casually toss out that sometimes he was pretty sure he was toeing a very thin line when it came to Jack’s patience and thought he might genuinely get hurt couldn’t feel good to him.

“I think it’s a definite possibility when you get into one of the more violent frames of mind.” Tim said, carefully, “Considering you tried to burn my face off the first time, I think you shooting me in the face is probably more likely to happen and way less likely to actually hurt in the end.”

Jack hummed, but seemed to accept that.

Neither of them moved for the moment.

And then, quietly, eyes averted, Jack asked, “Why are you still here, Tim?”

For a second, Tim thought he was asking why he was still in the bedroom. But then, subject of the conversation smacking him in the face again, he realized Jack probably meant why he was still here at all. In general. Why he hadn’t just taken the money he’d managed to accrue and run off to find a better job.

“We have a contract?” Tim suggested, “And I’m really not all that scared of you anyway?”

“But you never know when I’m gonna randomly decide to try and kill you.”

“I never know when  _ anyone _ is going to randomly decide to try and kill me.” He snorted, “I don’t know when  _ I’m _ gonna decide to try and kill me. It’s fine. People are unpredictable and you get used to the threat of death after a while.”

Jack didn’t seem particularly comforted by that, but he  _ was _ looking at him again so he counted that as a success. He guessed the vaguely suicidal bit may have been disquieting.

“... Tim.” Jack finally said, after a long moment of just staring each other down, “Seriously.”

“I was being serious.” Tim sighed, and this time he was unable to make himself hold eye contact. “I’m not scared enough of you or the possibility of you killing me to get scared off the job. Not to mention you’re kinda cool to be around when you’re  _ not _ trying to kill me so it’s not like I’m suffering by being here.”

“Your standards are  _ terrifyingly _ low.” Jack sighed, after another long moment, “But if you don’t want to leave I sure as hell won’t make you.”

“You wouldn’t be able to make me anyway,” Tim snorted, seeing Jack jump a little at his sudden amusement, “Which one of us actually gets into fights, Jack? I think I’d win.”

Looking playfully insulted, Jack gasped, then lurched forward and tackled him.

They ended up laying on the floor, tangled up with each other, laughing. It felt better than anything had in weeks. And for a moment Tim let himself think that he could get used to this. He could let himself get comfortable with Jack like this. He looked at him as their laughter faded off and thought that Jack looked very,  _ very _ handsome when he was smiling. Their legs were tangled together, arms tossed over each others’ abdomens, faces mere inches apart ― so close. Close enough that it almost made Tim’s heart start to race.

“I still think I won,” Tim let himself comment, voice cracking a little and he wasn’t sure why.

Jack snorted, shoving him gently, but didn’t argue the point.

They laid there a little longer. Laid there until, finally, sighing, Jack untangled himself from the pile they’d made and got up. Tim followed.

“I don’t even feel like cooking,” Jack confided as the two of them exited the bedroom back into the living room.

“I’d offer to do it but I kinda suck at cooking.”

Jack grumbled.

“... We could always order takeout?” He suggested.

He hummed, seeming swayed already. “Dunno what we’d get.”

“Weren’t you talking about wanting tacos the other day?” Tim prodded.

… They ended up having tacos.

And Tim hated how fond he felt of Jack the whole time.

He hated that he fell asleep that night thinking about how it felt to be wrapped up with him there on the floor when they’d finished horsing around. Thinking about how comfortable it had been, and how much he’d wanted to lean forward and kiss him. Wondering what kissing him would have felt like.


	4. déjà vu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains non-explicit sexual content and some dubious consent in the form of feeling like it's the only reasonable option, and one character worries out loud that it may have been non-consensual
> 
> there is _no_ non-con here, though, just dub-con, and they move past it very quickly

He felt like he was having déjà vu, backing away from Jack up in the CEO’s office while he approached with a white hot brand.

But this was not deja vu, not just a memory or a dream, because this really was happening again. He knew it was. He’d already knocked himself into the edge of Jack’s desk rather than pinching himself in hopes of waking himself up, and the spike of pain had told him everything.

So now he was retracing his steps, slowly backing away and trying not to trip.

“Jack,” He said, “We’ve had this discussion before, you don’t have to―”

Surprisingly, Jack’s response was to swing the brand at him, and Tim yelped, ducking out of the way. His back smacked into the window and he resigned himself to his fate. He could fight back, sure, and he might even win, but until that brand was no longer in Jack’s hand he wasn’t willing to try. It was a danger to both of them right now ― he didn’t want to hit himself with it any more than he wanted to hit Jack with it.

He crowded himself up against the window as Jack settled in front of him, brandishing the brand, and he turned his face away and squeezed his eyes shut. He kept his legs closed, didn’t allow Jack to move them. Breathed hard and terrified.

“They don’t _match,”_ Jack uttered, not nearly as distressed this time as he had been last time.

“They match as long as we’re both wearing a mask,” Tim countered, “That was good enough before, what changed?”

Jack growled.

Tim felt the heat of the brand on his face and braced himself. But then the heat moved away, and he dared peek his eyes open in time to see Jack reaching for his face with his other hand, likely to force him to straighten out so he could brand him _right,_ and Tim―

Well, he kind of stopped thinking.

He shifted, lurching forward and yanking Jack closer by the collar of his jacket. Off-balance, Jack braced himself on the brand, likely leaving a nasty burn in the floor and still almost managing to burn Tim’s leg from the proximity. And Tim closed his eyes and pulled Jack into a kiss, because it was the only idea he had. And Jack went very, very still.

Tim released him, after a moment, not willing to continue kissing him when he wasn’t kissing back and probably wouldn’t even remember it happening. Jack merely stared at him for a long moment.

Then, slowly, Jack lifted the brand again, apparently not at all deterred.

“Please,” Tim let himself whisper, “Jack, don’t.”

And how pathetic he must look. How weak and sad. He was tearing up, scared, doing nothing at all to save himself when anyone else would have kicked Jack in the face and made a run for it by now. He couldn't believe Jack still thought he was a good body double. He was _pathetic._

He closed his eyes again, holding back a whimper, when the brand got close to his face again. It was cooler, now, probably not even hot enough to burn him severely, but the fear remained. How could it not?

The heat retreated.

The brand clattered onto the floor, closer this time than last time.

And when Tim had shifted to kiss Jack he’d let his legs fall open, so Jack slid in between his thighs without a word or a sound. Tim didn’t dare open his eyes.

Hands, now very familiar to him, gripped his jaw and lifted his head, but he kept his eyes closed anyway.

Then Jack was kissing him, not the other way around, and Tim could only go limp against the window and, after a moment, hesitantly kiss back.

Did he feel a little weird, doing this when Jack likely wouldn’t normally be alright with it? When he wouldn't remember the whole event in the end and even if he did he’d probably feel awful about it? Yeah, absolutely. But he wasn’t going to say no, and if it happened it happened. He wouldn’t encourage it, because he did feel weird rooting for it to happen, but he would let it happen.

Jack’s tongue slid against his bottom lip, and he let his mouth fall open.

Somehow, some way, this ended up with him laying on his back there on the office floor, clinging to Jack’s shoulders while the CEO rocked his hips into him. His pants were somewhere else in the office, shirt and jacket pushed up to his chest. Thighs pushed up until they were almost touching his chest too. He kept his eyes shut, panting and moaning and not actually getting anywhere despite the fact that it _did_ feel good.

Jack was panting against his neck ― his poor, hickey-covered neck ― gasping as he got closer and closer to his end.

His hips stuttered, and Tim dared peek his eyes open to see Jack looking strangely hesitant all of a sudden.

“Don’t stop,” Tim said, against his own better judgement, and apparently that was all Jack needed.

Jack continued, hips still stuttering, until he came to a stop with a muffled groan and Tim felt him pulse and twitch inside of him. His own heart hammered in his chest at the feeling, cock throbbing and begging for attention, for release. He didn’t know if he was going to get either of those, and wasn’t sure if he cared.

He kind of just stared up at the ceiling until Jack pulled back and pulled out, and didn’t look at Jack as he fixed himself and just―

Just _left_ him there on the office floor.

He didn’t move for a very long moment. He just laid there and processed and wondered if that had been worth it. If the way his heart was squeezing painfully in his chest had been worth avoiding being burned. If now worrying that Jack would remember and regret that was worth it. If worrying that Jack _wouldn’t_ remember was worth it.

But eventually, feeling awful, he got up. He put his pants back on and straightened himself out. He put the brand back where Jack usually kept it. He made sure the office was in good shape, was clean. And then he headed for the penthouse, because he had nowhere else he could go and he needed to check on Jack.

He paused to lock the door behind him after he arrived back, and when he turned he found Jack waiting at the end of the entry hall. He looked totally aware, not spiraling at all, and he looked _awful._ He looked like there was guilt eating him alive… Exactly as Tim had feared.

He wasn’t sure he had what it took to calm Jack down.

“Hey.” He greeted, casually, as he stepped out of his shoes.

The guilty and concerned look didn’t fade at all, even as Jack breathed out a cracked, “Hey.” in return.

“You okay?” Tim asked.

That got Jack’s expression to crack, but not in any sort of good way. Really he just looked like he felt worse at the question ― guilty and concerned and now disbelieving. “You― _You’re_ asking _me_ that?”

Tim sighed, no longer able to meet his eyes.

“... Were you hoping I didn’t remember?” Jack asked, after another moment, voice still cracking, “Are you just going to pretend it didn’t happen?”

“I would prefer if you _didn’t_ remember, yeah.” Tim sighed, “Because I hate seeing you feeling guilty.”

He didn’t acknowledge the rest.

He was pretty sure no answer would be the best answer for that.

“Tim,” Jack’s voice was heavily distressed, “Nowhere in our contract does it say you have to put up with me r―”

“Hey.” Tim cut him off before he could finish the sentence, “Hey, no. None of that.”

Jack stopped, concern only intensifying.

“You―” Tim sighed, “You didn’t _rape_ me, Jack, okay? I know it… Probably felt that way and you probably don’t remember everything, but you didn’t rape me.”

Jack didn’t seem sure.

And Tim mourned the loss of his own patience as he breathed a slow noise of annoyance and pushed past Jack to get to the living room so he could sit down. He needed to sit down. He was sore and he was tired and he didn’t think he could say anything else while looking Jack in the face anyway.

“Tim,” He sounded alarmed, worried.

“You didn’t rape me,” He repeated as he flopped onto the couch, shoving his face into his hands, “If anything I’m the one at fault for opening up that possibility to you while you were like that. But I swear to God, Jack, if I hadn’t been on-board with it it wouldn’t have happened. I could have fought you off if I felt like I needed to.”

“... Then what were you begging me not to do?” Jack finally asked, after a long moment of silence.

Tim slowly pried his hands away from his face, looking up at the hesitant Jack who was still standing a few feet away. He still looked so vulnerable and unsure and _worried_ and it made Tim’s insides twitch and ache all over again. How dare his emotions do this to him right now. How dare Jack’s brain make this even a thing that could happen to begin with.

“You’re telling me,” He said, carefully, “You remember fucking me on the office floor, but not trying to burn my face off again?”

“You let me fuck you after I tried to burn your face off again?”

That had probably been the wrong way to phrase it, considering the incredulous and horrified look on Jack’s face. But it was the truth, and Jack deserved the truth. Tim didn’t want it to come out later, or randomly be remembered, because that would be much worse for both of them. He thought. He was pretty sure.

“It was a preferable alternative?” Tim replied, now a little unsure himself, “And I kind of just. Really wanted to let you anyway.” He paused, “Would have preferred different circumstances, but now I know what that’s like so the curiosity can, like, fuck off.”

Jack stared at him.

He stared back, and he still really wasn’t sure what the hell he was feeling or what he _should_ be feeling right now.

“... You didn’t even get to cum,” Jack finally said, “And with the way you looked when I left I don’t think you bothered with it afterwards either. I just…” He sighed, “That didn’t… I’m having a very hard time believing that wasn’t…”

“So you didn’t make me cum,” Tim rolled his eyes, because he knew how he felt about _that_ and mostly it was ‘vaguely annoyed’, “Big deal.”

He didn’t justify the ‘afterwards’ part with a response.

Jack continued to stare at him, and he continued to stare back.

And then, slowly, finally, Jack approached the couch. Tim only watched, waiting until he was closer to lift his head and meet his gaze again. Jack seemed only marginally less concerned now, but he did seem to be working through something in his head as he came to a stop in front of Tim. Looming over him.

Tim couldn't have been intimidated if he tried, he didn’t think. Not with Jack looking so worried.

“... If that’s the case,” Said Jack, slowly, “If I didn’t― I want to make sure you’re alright.”

Hearing Jack stutter outside of a spiral was upsetting.

“Okay?” He said, anyway, “Go for it.”

And he submitted to Jack checking him over, watching him wince when he found the hickeys. Jack’s hands hesitated at the hem of his shirt, and Tim rolled his eyes. Pulled it up to his chest for him and let him see his stomach ― untouched, except for a couple of hickeys over his ribs and hips. And Jack hesitated again, at the waistband of his pants.

“It’s just gonna be more hickeys,” Tim told him, leaned against the back of the couch with Jack between his legs. Mortified at the thought of taking his pants off again, especially now that Jack was fully in the moment. “Seriously, Jack, I’m fine.”

But Jack didn’t seem particularly reassured.

Tim sighed, “Do you really think I’d lie?”

Jack looked away, guilty, and Tim sighed again.

Unbuttoned his pants. Closed his eyes and took a breath, and pushed them down off his hips.

It ended up with his pants off again, Jack kneeling between his legs in front of him. Thankfully he seemed to be looking less worried now, but Tim couldn’t help the discomfort of just being _stared at_ while his dick was out. Like, it felt weird.

Especially considering that this guy had just, you know, fucked him.

And came in him.

“See?” He asked, a little hoarsely, “I’m fine. Just some hickeys.”

Jack’s eyes flicked up to his face, and Tim wondered if he was as red as he felt. If his ears were as cherry-red as he was sure his cheeks were.

“Yeah,” Jack agreed, sounding a little hoarse himself, “Can… Do you want me to, uh.”

“Nervous doesn’t suit you.” Tim let himself say, looking away, “But the answer is probably yes? Depending on what you’re asking.”

Jack half-laughed, one hand hesitantly landing on his thigh and making him squeeze his eyes shut. “... So where does fixing my rookie mistake fall in that?”

His breath caught in his throat. Not what he’d expected, and he wasn’t sure he wanted it just because Jack felt guilty or like he owed him but…

“Yes,” He managed, voice cracking, “Holy shit, yes, please.”

He hated sounding so needy, but fuck it. Fuck it. What was the point in hiding?

It got another half-laugh from Jack, hand gently massaging at the inside of Tim’s thigh as Tim’s dick twitched with interest. Tim just tried to breathe, for the moment, letting his legs fall further open as Jack inched closer. His breath shuddered out of him at the first contact with his dick.

He got hard again embarrassingly fast.

Jack, thankfully, did not comment on that.

He did, however, very promptly take him into his mouth and make his brain short-circuit.

“Jack,” He breathed, clenching his fists on the couch cushion beneath him, and Jack hummed and _Jesus._ One hesitant hand came up to tangle in Jack’s hair and Jack only hummed again, sounding pleased. “Holy shit.”

And that was when Jack began, slowly, to bob his head, swallowing around him and working his tongue along the underside of his shaft. Tim felt himself go boneless, staring up at the ceiling again and unable to stop himself from gasping out little moans and curses and praise. He ran his fingers through Jack’s hair in an attempt to keep himself grounded, but there was little he could really do.

It had been so long since anyone else actually touched him like this, and despite not cumming or even feeling like he was getting close earlier… Well, he’d been getting there, just very slowly because he was caught up in the details. And he was not caught in the details this time, gasping and whining as Jack worked him over with his mouth.

He was hissing out a warning sooner than he wanted to be, but Jack didn’t seem bothered.

He sat there on the couch afterwards (while Jack made a joke about rinsing his mouth out and promptly left to do so) and just tried to catch his breath.

This didn’t mean anything, and he knew it didn’t, but it had been nice.

He just wondered, again, if it had really been worth the way his chest ached now.

He sighed, pulling his pants back on.

He would just have to try and keep to his word ― now that he knew what that was like, the curiosity could fuck off. That never had to happen again. He never had to…

Ah, but now that he knew it wasn’t something Jack would necessarily complain about as a form of distracting him when he went into a violent spiral, he couldn't say that, could he? Because it might happen again.

“So,” Said Jack, fairly casually, after he returned, “Was I good? I was good, right? Aside from the not-making-you-cum part?”

The ache in his chest faded off a little as he let himself snort, giving Jack an exasperated, but fond, smile. “Oh, not the worst I’ve had,” He joked, watching Jack clutch his chest in mock-offense and chuckling. Then, more sincerely, “Yeah, though, it was good.”

“Even though…?” Jack trailed, raising his brows.

“That was more my fault than yours.” He let himself snort, “Thinking too hard’ll kill a boner, you know?”

Some tension that he hadn’t even noticed before melted out of Jack, and he laughed. Flopped onto the couch next to him. Turned on the TV and flicked through the channels, like nothing had even happened.

And the ache came back with a vengeance.

“Y’know,” The CEO said, slowly, pausing in his channel-surfing endeavors but not looking at him, “If that’s the easiest way to keep me from hurting you when I get like that…” He paused, taking a breath, “If it’s easier and you want to, I don’t mind.”

And the ache got worse, but he watched Jack out of the corner of his eye for a moment before carefully responding, “So we’re establishing consent for me getting dicked down when you occasionally try to kill me.”

It got a wince and a laugh from Jack. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” Tim said, after another moment, “Sure. Y’let me know if you change your mind at any point.”

“Will do.”

He turned his gaze on the TV, chest screaming at him, and told himself that it was going to be a last resort. Only a last resort. Because he wasn’t willing to hurt himself like that ― he could take physical pain, if that was what Jack was going to dish out, but emotional pain was another issue.

Hopefully Jack would understand if he ever just let him hurt him instead of trying to seduce him.


	5. bonding

“You’re not my dad.” Angel said, carefully ― seekingly, but not a question.

Tim glanced at her, midway through reprogramming one of the various defensive items Jack had installed around the place, and wondered if he should lie. But he figured, generally, that his ability to convince  _ others _ of being Jack was not enough for his  _ actual daughter. _

So he sighed, pulling back from the terminal and turning to her. “No.”

Her face turned unsure almost instantly, and she crossed her arms over her stomach. Her eyes, those bright eyes, strafed away from him, looking around.

He waited, patient, because if he’d learned anything in his now almost two years of working for Jack, it was that Angel and Jack both just needed time to gather themselves at times. It was definitely something Angel had gotten from Jack. And it was something he was more than used to dealing with.

“... I didn’t know he told anyone else I even existed,” She finally said, “He’s never let anyone else in here before.”

He winced a little, nodding, “And I don’t think there’s going to be anyone else, either, if I’m honest, kid.”

“Then why you?”

With her eyes back on him, mouth in a thin line, he merely gestured to himself.

She looked away again, “I still don’t know why he’d trust you with it. Being his body double doesn’t mean you’re not going to hurt me.”

“It’s not like he always trusted me enough to let me come in here.” He pointed out, carefully, “And the only reason I knew about you before that was because I need to be a convincing double to the peons at Hyperion and he apparently used to brag about you to them all the time. Anyone bringing you up sets him off pretty bad, so I needed to know who you were and why it pissed him off.”

“What changed?” She pressed, “When did you start being the one who came instead of him?”

“Hey, back up,” He put his hands up in surrender, “I don’t usually come down here. I definitely don’t come down here for visits ― that’s all him.” He motioned toward the recent fixes and additions to the place, “He just sends me down here to work on this stuff when he doesn’t have the time.”

Angel’s expression lightened a little, and for a moment she looked horribly vulnerable.

Tim wanted to hug her.

But he kept his distance and refrained ― sure, legally she was his daughter as long as he was Jack’s body double, but she wasn’t  _ his. _ It wouldn’t do to get too attached. Especially if Jack somehow took it the wrong way during a spiral and did something about it.

“So he’s still coming down here every two weeks?” She asked, hopeful, “Even though we’re both really busy?”

“Yeah.” Tim assured her, “I didn’t even meet you until after the improvements started.” He paused, snorting, “You know, that reminds me, I ― I dunno if you know anything about your dad’s mental state at the moment, and it’s probably for the best if you don’t, but…” He chuckled a little, looking away from her, “He gets rough to deal with sometimes, and ― okay. I have the key to the Bunker at all times. It’s in my office, taped to the underside of my desk. And he’s the one who told me to put it there.” Glancing back, assuring himself she was following (and she was, based on the curious eyes and the cock of her head), he continued, “So he knows it’s there. And about a week after we had you start tracking the Vault Hunters, he went into one of those… Episodes. Started tearing his office apart looking for the key.”

“The key that’s in your office.” She checked.

“The very same.”

Her face cracked, a smile brightening her considerably. She giggled, and Tim again wanted to hug her.

“And you should have seen his  _ face _ when I mentioned it to him in the morning ― he has a hard time remembering it when he gets like that, couldn’t possibly tell you why, but it does make it funny when he does something dumb and I get to tell him about it later.”

Angel continued to giggle, covering her mouth with her hands and squeezing her eyes shut in her mirth. The machines next to her whirred louder, responding to the pulse of her powers, the light blooming in her tattoos. And, sure, Tim knew he should be at least a little worried ― Angel’s powers could easily go out of control, and the machines here couldn’t suppress or absorb all of them so an outburst could still injure him ―, but he was just glad to see her smiling. Laughing.

She was always so melancholy…

Although, that may be because she hadn’t realized Tim wasn’t Jack, and Tim wasn’t… Affectionate to her.

At all.

Because he felt weird about it.

“When did you figure out I wasn’t him?” He asked, turning back to his work but watching her over his shoulder while he carefully followed Jack’s instruction about the reprogramming.

“A few visits ago,” She admitted, still smiling a little, “It just seemed weird that he’d come in here for his visit, or to do your maintenance thing, and he’d be… His normal self? And then he’d come in for the maintenance thing and just kind of ignore me unless I talked to him.” She rubbed her neck, averting her eyes once more, but she didn’t seem upset, “Then I remembered he had a body double and I was… Really hoping that was all that was going on.”

“Yeah, sorry ― I… You’re not  _ my _ kid so I feel weird trying to act like your dad.”

“No, no, it’s okay!” She assured him, “I would have appreciated knowing sooner, but I’m not upset.”

He gave her a smile, and she smiled back.

“You know he loves you a lot, right?” He asked, after a moment, “Even though he’s, uh, you know. A douche about it.” He made a vague gesture around to indicate what he meant by that, “He just… Really wants you safe.”

“I know,” She replied, suddenly sounding sad, “And I know he doesn’t want me to hurt anyone on accident. That’s… Why I don’t complain. Even if I would really like to get out of here.”

Tim chewed his lip, debating, and ― “We’re working on that, sort of,” He said, against his better judgement, caution thrown to the wind, “If we can get something that helps keep your powers under control, even just one of the collars he’s working on developing…”

“I would wear a collar for the rest of my  _ life _ if it meant getting out of here.” She said, very seriously, “I don’t want to hurt anybody, and God knows I’ve accidentally hurt dad enough times for it to be a legitimate concern even now.”

And it hurt to hear a kid who couldn’t be more than, what, like  _ 12? _ Say things like that. It reminded him of him, and that sort of sucked. Actually it sucked a  _ lot. _ Like… Oof.

It was like flashing back to himself as a child, scrawny and harmless but scared to death of ever hurting anything or anyone.

Only to go on, as an adult, to murder several people and countless more creatures in cold blood.

He could only hope the same wouldn't happen to Angel. He would have to do everything he could to help Jack keep her safe.

“We’ll come up with something,” He said, sincerely, “Promise. Okay?”

She smiled at him again. “Okay.”

And he got back to work.


	6. strangle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> explicit sex in this chap, minor worry by one of the other characters that there's something Bad going on but there's not

Being pinned to Jack’s bed by his throat was not the way Tim anticipated finding out Jack was in the middle of a spiral when he went to go check on him.

Jack’s hand clenched around his throat, mildly painfully, definitely a threat, but even though it made Tim’s vision swim it also made him moan soundlessly and turn very red as his dick gave a very interested twitch in his pants. Jack’s head cocked just so, eyes narrowing, and he didn’t ease up on the pressure at all. And Tim struggled to draw breath past the pressure, brows furrowing just a little bit more and more the longer it went.

Unsure of what else to do, he let his legs fall open a little.

Jack blinked, glancing down at the movement.

The pressure eased.

“Jack,” He sighed.

His hands lay uselessly next to his head, palms up, and he was completely open. Had made no attempt to stop him. He’d been too surprised, at first, and not bothered enough afterwards. And maybe he should be, because Jack had  _ definitely _ strangled people to death in front of him before, but his reaction to being strangled wasn’t a negotiable one and he didn’t have enough of a sense of self-preservation to be worried.

Especially since Jack wasn’t applying near enough pressure for him to even begin worrying.

And Jack blinked at him again, mouth falling open a little. He beathed, slowly. “Look real pretty like that, Timmy.”

Tim couldn’t help his lips quirking up a little at the praise, heart beginning to hammer in his chest.

It should have been hammering before, but it hadn’t been.

“Prettier than normal?” He asked, lifting a brow, and found himself surprised at how husky his voice sounded.

The CEO smiled, very soft all of a sudden but still clearly spiraling because his eyes were still sort of glazed. “Prettiest I’ve ever seen you,” He said, stroking his thumb over the skin of Tim’s throat and Tim’s breath caught a little, “Bein’ real good for me too, pumpkin…”

His breath caught again, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” His hand left Tim’s neck, trailing up along with the hand previously holding him down by his shoulder, and he set to work on the clasps of the mask. “Can you keep bein’ good for me?”

“Y-yeah,” He uttered, hoarsely, “I can be good for you.”

Jack removed his mask from him, setting it aside without so much as a distressed wince or even a blink. He stroked over his face for a moment, drawing careful lines over the cut of his jaw and the arch of his cheekbones, then withdrew to wrap his hands around Tim’s neck. He settled in like that, eyes on Tim’s face, and Tim drew in a breath.

“Just lay here and look pretty for me, okay?” Jack purred, “If you really start achin’ for a breath, just grab my wrists. Sound fair?”

“Yeah, sounds fair.”

“Good boy.”

He drew in a breath, both in preparation and in response to the praise.

Jack’s hands closed around his throat slowly, gradually cutting off his air, and all Tim could do was sigh. His cock gave another interested twitch, stirring a little faster than he’d like. He let his eyes slip closed, prepared to have to grab Jack’s wrists at some point, and just let himself get lost to the sensation of slowly losing the ability to breathe.

One would think after the whole moon thing he’d be less turned on by being robbed of his breath, but… Nah.

It was still really,  _ really _ hot.

“Look at me.” Jack ordered quietly.

Tim didn’t even hesitate to open his eyes, meeting Jack’s gaze even as he realized his lungs were starting to protest.

“Good boy,” Jack praised, squeezing tighter, “You’re so pretty for me, all dazed and dying to take a breath… Could just squeeze until I crush your windpipe and you wouldn’t try to stop me, would you? You’d just let me, like the pretty little obedient thing you are.”

Against all odds, the threat (if it even was a threat rather than an observation) made his cock twitch again, a whine managing if only barely to make it past the vice of Jack’s hands. And Jack’s smile turned very sharp. His vision started to get spotty as Jack squeezed tighter.

He tried very hard to keep his eyes open and on Jack’s face.

But…

He lifted his hands, mouth half-open and he couldn’t remember when he’d opened it, and slowly wrapped his fingers around Jack’s wrists. His eyes were almost fully unfocused, half-closing, vision swimming with black spots, and his cock was stirring valiantly in his pants.

And, thankfully, Jack wasn’t far gone enough to have forgotten what he’d said.

When Tim grabbed his wrists, even as delicately as he did, Jack loosened his grip slowly.

“Good boy.” Jack said, stroking his thumbs up and down the length of his throat, “How are you feeling, Timmy?”

“G-good,” He managed, weakly, after he drew in a breath, “I feel good.”

Jack leaned in closer, continuing his motions, and brushed his lips carefully over his jaw. “Perfect,” He rumbled, “You’re such a good boy, Timmy. Keep it up, pumpkin.”

His heart pounded in his chest, pulse hammering under Jack’s hands, and he whined under the weight of the praise. He was mortified by the noise as soon as it left him, but Jack made a low noise against his jaw in response.

“Let go when you’re ready.” He said.

Having recovered enough to feel safe allowing Jack to continue, he took a breath and released Jack’s wrists.

Jack chuckled, “Just waiting for the order, huh pumpkin?”

“Maybe,”

“Gonna break you,” He told him softly, but seriously, slowly applying pressure once more, “Gonna  _ ruin _ you so no one else can have you.”

He whined again, gasping out a weak, “Please?” and hating himself for it.

Jack growled against his jaw, shuddering above him and applying all the same pressure as last time all at once. “You want that, Timmy? Want me to make you fall apart? Want me to make you unable to ever enjoy anybody else touching you ever again?”

He couldn’t draw in a breath, couldn’t say a word, but he shuddered and arched up into Jack regardless. And Jack purred, biting down on his jaw, kissing and licking his way over the skin. Tim’s head spun, vision going spotty much faster this time as he submitted to Jack’s teeth and lips and tongue against his chin and jaw, the light shifting of Jack above him oh so teasingly close to his now fully interested cock.

He struggled for a breath,  _ thrilling _ in the total inability to do anything to draw in any air.

When there were too many spots for him to even clear them by blinking, he curled his fingers around Jack’s wrists again.

Jack withdrew, releasing the pressure gradually and staring down at him with a grin while he started pulling in breaths and trying to clear the spots in his vision. Tim tried to watch him in turn, panting until the spots disappeared, wanting to grab him and pull him into a kiss ― but if he let go of Jack’s wrists he’d start strangling him again. He needed a second before that.

“You look like you want something, pumpkin,” Jack teased, and his eyes were sharp now in that dangerous way they got when he was in a violent sort of spiral and wasn’t being stopped.

“Kiss me?” He requested in response to the teasing, hoping it would get a good response out of Jack if he tacked on, “Please?”

Jack gave him a knife-sharp grin in reply, but nevertheless leaned down and kissed him. It was surprisingly languid and soft in comparison to everything else so far, but Tim wouldn’t complain about that. He just kissed back until his breathing came easier, less strained, and he felt ready to let go.

He released Jack’s wrists and let his hands fall back onto the bed next to his head.

Jack chuckled against his lips, squeezing his throat again ― a little tighter this time, and not gradually at all. But Tim couldn't find it in himself to be scared. To be worried that next time Jack might just keep holding on.

He hitched his hips up, ability to kiss back suffering as his body noticed the lack of air once more.

Jack chuckled again, biting his bottom lip hard enough that Tim’s first instinct was to open his mouth, and then Jack was tongue-fucking his mouth. He tried to reciprocate somehow, to lick at Jack’s tongue or slide his own into Jack’s mouth in turn, but his mouth just… Stopped working. A whine managed to work its way out from under Jack’s hold on his throat, eyes flickering open and then rolling back into his head.

His hands twitched, but before he could convince himself to grab Jack’s wrists for a break, Jack drew back very quickly. He blinked quickly, unable to make himself close his mouth even as he managed to focus on Jack.

And then Jack’s hands were pulling away from his throat ― oh, God, he’d come out of the spiral.

“Jesus― Tim? Tim, are you―”

“I’m good,” He panted, closing his eyes, “I’m good, don’t― Don’t worry.”

When he’d managed to take a couple of breaths and close his mouth, he blinked his eyes back open and met Jack’s concerned gaze.

“... I was letting you,” He said, slowly, “We had a whole system worked out. I’m okay.”

“You looked…”

“Completely out of it?” Tim raised a brow, “I was a little overwhelmed, yeah. Was about to grab your wrists to get you to back off for a sec, so good enough timing for you to snap out of it, I guess.”

Jack shifted back a little, then jumped, eyes going wide. “I― Oh.”

And, given the shudder that went through him from Jack accidentally shifting back against his dick, he knew exactly what Jack was ‘oh’ing about. He grinned, a little sheepishly, “Ha… Yeah…”

“... So you were gonna…?”

“If it got to that, yeah.” He chuckled, “You seemed pretty satisfied with strangling me, though, and I’m… Pretty sure I coulda came just from that.”

Jack looked relieved, breathing out a sigh. “Jesus. Okay.” He paused, biting his lip, and Tim again thought that nervous didn’t suit him. “Do you want me to…?”

“If you want to.” Tim managed to shrug, “I’ll probably just jerk off in the bathroom if you don’t, so I’m not partial.”

He grinned a little, shifting back again a little more purposely than the first time, “Surely I’m better than jerking off thinking about me.”

“Well, yeah.” Tim hesitated, then lifted his hands to settle them on Jack’s hips, giving him a grin of his own, “But it’s up to you if you want to. You’re the boss.”

It startled a laugh out of Jack, who settled in, sitting just above his hips, just above Tim’s erection. “You got a power imbalance kink, pumpkin?”

“I think I could probably get off on power imbalance, yeah.” He snorted, and again he hesitated before he used his grip on Jack’s hips to push him back against his erection, “Mostly I was trying to get you to laugh.”

Jack seemed a little surprised by the movement, gasping, but then he looked sort of charmed. “Well,” He said, pausing only long enough to shift a little and then rock his hips back, “You know what they say ― if you can’t laugh with somebody while you’re fuckin’, it aint meant to be.”

Tim clenched his fingers on his hips, blowing out a breath, but chuckled a little in response. “Now we just gotta see if we’re on the same page about how this is gonna go.”

“Kinda hoping to ride you,” Jack admitted, “If you’re into that. You don’t seem to have a problem taking control.” He glanced down pointedly, lips quirked up.

Tim grinned, continuing to guide Jack’s hips so they could grind against each other.

Jack grinned back.

“I’m not opposed to you riding me,” He finally admitted, “Sounds pretty hot. You want me to prep you or do you wanna do it yourself?”

Jack shuddered a little, “Can give you a better show doing it myself.”

“It’s already a pretty good one just having you above me talking about wanting to ride my dick, Jack, you don’t have to turn it up to an 11 all the time.”

Thankfully, it got Jack to laugh again as he drew back and, after a brief moment’s hesitation, pulled his sweater off and discarded it. Tim took the opportunity to run his thumbs over Jack’s hips.

And, God, Jack definitely put on a show while he prepped himself, rocking back on his fingers and biting his lip. Moaning. Responding  _ beautifully _ when Tim dragged his nails over his hips, down the inside of his thighs.

“God, Jack, and you keep calling  _ me _ pretty.” He found himself uttering, “Look at you…”

He gripped Jack’s hips again, watching Jack try for a grin as he sank down onto him, but the expression faltered and fell very easily.

“God _ damn,” _ Jack sighed, “The- The plastic surgery didn’t cover your dick, did it? Cuz if this is how big I am, I―” He paused, groaning as he shifted to ease the slide a little more, “Shit, I feel bad for your ass.”

“Feel bad because of how sore I was when we were done last time?” He asked, feeling… Oddly confident as he petted over Jack’s hips until he finally settled over him again, panting. He grinned, wrapping one hand around Jack’s cock and slowly stroking it, “Cuz if so? Don’t. Totally worth it. But for the record? No. They didn’t do anything to my dick ― didn’t have to.”

“Didn’t have to?” Jack asked, even as he panted and lightly rocked his hips into Tim’s hand.

“Same length. I’m just thicker.”

Jack honest-to-God  _ whined _ in response to that, squeezing his eyes shut.

Then, carefully, he slowly lifted himself a bit, then sank back down. Repeated the motion, going a little higher. And again, and again, panting and biting his lip through it as he worked up to much longer, deeper thrusts. He continually hitched his hips into Tim’s touch, and Tim thought to himself that there was no coming back from this. No coming back at all.

He was so far beyond screwed.

But it was worth it.

_ So _ worth it.

Jack looked  _ gorgeous _ above him, rocking down onto his cock and twitching into the hand on his own. Face flushed even through the mask, biting his lip, both hands planted on Tim’s chest to brace himself.

“Man,” He uttered, “If I could get a picture of this, I’d have a new background for my ECHO. You look  _ perfect _ up there, Jack, holy  _ shit.” _

Jack’s lips quirked, a breathy laugh leaving him. “You’re one to talk, Timmy. You look like you wanna eat me alive… Pretty hot stuff.”

“I just might.” He moved his hand back to Jack’s hip, making Jack furrow his brows a little, and forced Jack down a little harder on his next downward thrust. The CEO gasped, not at all deterred and in fact looking  _ very _ pleased, and Tim grinned, “Or I could just fuck you until you can’t walk straight.”

“You think you got what it takes for that?” Jack raised a brow, barely holding the expression when Tim pulled him down again and he gasped once more.

Tim grinned again, shifting, gripping his hips tighter, and rocked up into him at the same moment he pulled him back down. Guided him back up while he pulled back. Thrust up as he pulled down. And it was slow, methodical, but Jack shuddered and moaned and gripped at his chest nonetheless.

“You think you can  _ handle _ it?” He asked, resuming just slowly pulling Jack down and guiding him back up.

“Why don’t you flip us over and find out?”

The surprised on Jack’s face when he did, in fact, flip them over without hurting either of them or even slipping out of him, told him he hadn’t been expecting him to take the bait.

But the look wasn’t on his face for long ― it was swiftly replaced by his mouth falling open in a moan and his eyes rolling back in his head as Tim set to work on him. Thrusting hard and deep with each roll of his hips, hands holding Jack’s hips up off the bed as he dipped his head and let himself indulge one of the many dirty fantasies he’d had since the plastic surgery had finished ― licking over Jack’s pecs, sucking a nipple into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it. Jack whined, moaning at each thrust and tangling a hand into Tim’s hair. And Tim just grinned around the nipple, teasing his teeth over it, and moved to the other.

Jack didn’t last as long as he had when he’d topped ― then again, he was significantly more worked up this time, and not just mindlessly fucking into Tim. Rather, he was being taken apart by Tim, used and filled and…

Tim was going to stop thinking about it before he started feeling possessive, but still.

Jack came with a cut-off shout, hand twisting in Tim’s hair, and Tim slowed his movements to rock into him carefully, grinding and reveling in the way Jack gasped and whined and clenched around him.

Reveling in it enough, in fact, that his own orgasm blindsided him and he came, shuddering, buried in Jack.

And the CEO merely panted in response.

“Damn,” He uttered, into Jack’s chest, when he’d caught his breath and gotten over how  _ completely out of nowhere _ his orgasm had been.

Jack laughed, breathy and weak, “Damn,” He echoed, arms dropping from around Tim’s shoulders and flopping uselessly to the bed. “That was… Holy shit, Tim.”

He let himself laugh at that, “Wanna see if you can walk? I  _ did _ say I was gonna fuck you until you couldn’t walk straight.”

“You’d have to get out of me first,” Jack pointed out, “And you don’t seem like you’re planning on going anywhere.”

He snorted, lifting up and looking at him.

And felt like he was being gutted when he found Jack watching him, smiling and face so soft and gentle. He looked completely at peace for the first time in the whole time Tim had known him, and Tim thought ―  _ I did that. I helped that happen. He looks like that because of something I did. _

He wanted him to look that calm for the rest of his life, but he knew it wouldn’t happen.

He smiled back at Jack, even through the way his heart thudded painfully against his ribcage and something in his guts squeezed and  _ ached. _

Even now he knew he still didn’t have Jack.

He never would.

There was no point hoping, in letting himself keep getting hurt like this, but… Well.

He’d always been a masochist.

“Give me a minute,” He joked, “I want to enjoy my victory.”

Jack descended into genuine chuckles at that, eyes squeezing shut as he let his head fall back. And it knocked the wind out of Tim to see him like that, to see him  _ happy _ and  _ laughing _ and knowing he made him laugh. He made him feel happy.

He took the time to slowly withdraw from Jack and flop onto the bed next to him. Jack rolled to face him, still smiling, still sort of laughing, and Tim felt like he was being gutted all over again. But he’d deal with it. If it meant Jack looking at him happily, like he meant something, like he was somehow doing something right, he would deal with the pain.

So he smiled back.

“You  _ are _ gonna have to get up and try to clean yourself up eventually,” He noted.

“Can’t you do it for me?” Jack asked, probably trying for a petulant or teasing tone, but really he just sounded tiredly pleased, “I’m pretty sure you did more than fuck me so I couldn’t walk  _ straight.” _

“I can grab you the tissues from the bedside table,” He quirked a brow, feeling satisfied and, again, gutted, at the knowledge that he had done a number on Jack.

Jack laughed again, “Please?”

So Tim turned and grabbed the tissues, only to hold them out of Jack’s reach with a laugh as he plucked one out and cleaned up his chest and stomach for him. Something changed in Jack’s expression, and for a second he looked almost as gutted as Tim kept feeling. It was gone in an instant, but Tim still happened to catch a glance of it.

“Thought you were just gonna grab them for me,” Jack said, and the gutted look was gone but the feeling still seemed to linger in his voice.

“Changed my mind,” Tim shrugged, tossing the dirty ones into the trash and grabbing his mask from where Jack had tossed it earlier, slowly sitting up and considering it, “Gonna be a bitch for you to get anything else done today ― I’ll handle it, alright?”

When he chanced a peek out of the corner of his eyes, the gutted expression had made its way back onto Jack’s face.

“Yeah,” The CEO said, anyway, “Alright. I’ll, uh… See you when you get back tonight.”

He seemed to try and wipe the look off his face as Tim turned to him, offering him what he hoped was a charming smile. Jack tried to match it, but something still looked pained in his expression.

“I won’t be gone that long,” He assured him, “I’ll bring lunch back with me.”

And he slid out of the bed before he could let himself lean over and kiss Jack.

Working would be less painful, anyway.

His heart squeezed in his chest as he dressed, fixing his mask back onto his face, and left the penthouse.


	7. feelings are involved

He brought lunch back with him, as promised, and found Jack had made it to the couch at some point, and had put on a shirt and some pants. He looked dazed, but not necessarily like he was in another spiral.

“Hey,” He greeted, and Jack shook his head and looked to him, fully aware.

“Hey.” Jack said in return, “You… Got everything done already? It’s only like. Two.”

“I do paperwork faster than you do, Jack.” He rolled his eyes, offering him his lunch, “I’m not as easy to distract and I type faster.”

Jack accepted his lunch, shrug-nodding as if to concede Tim’s point and not saying anything for a moment, while Tim settled in.

“... Dumb question.” Jack finally sighed, “But please be honest.”

“Okay?” Tim blinked, and he did  _ not _ like where this was going. He didn’t like it one bit.

“I didn’t, like, weird you out earlier or anything, right?” Jack looked away, “Or push too far?”

Tim blinked again, watching him. Again, he thought nervous didn’t suit Jack ― but neither did self-conscious. He hated seeing that look on him. Both at once was awful.

“... I’m sorry,” Tim said, carefully, “But I don’t… Understand why you’re asking.”

“You left pretty quick,” Jack shrugged, still not making eye contact, “I dunno. Felt like I did something.”

Tim winced, “Oh, God, no, Jack, that wasn’t because of anything you did.” And like, sure,  _ partially _ a lie, but Jack didn’t need to know that. It was only because of something he did because seeing him so happy and knowing he had a part in causing that kept sucker-punching him. “I just remembered we run a company and  _ somebody _ needed to go do our paperwork so poor Meg doesn’t have to.” He paused, “And, well, I’m an awkward piece of shit so…”

Jack finally looked at him again, searching his face for a moment.

Tim kept his eyes on him and said, “I promise you didn’t make it weird or push too far. If anybody made anything weird it was my own brain.”

Jack seemed to accept that, shoulders slumping in relief. Tim hated seeing him like this and he knew he’d  _ just _ gotten through thinking that but… Ugh. It was frustrating. And when Jack let himself look away, Tim scrunched his face up and struggled not to groan under the onslaught of annoyance he felt. But then he forced himself to relax.

“So.” Jack leaned back, looking totally casual again, “Anybody notice the hickeys I put on your chin?”

He’d forgotten about those, but given there had been no snickering… “If they did, nobody said anything.” He leaned back as well, “You manage to get here without stumbling?”

Jack laughed, “Man, I wish. But no, you kept your promise, that’s for damn sure ― limped the whole way. Almost knocked over the lamp on the bedside table.”

“I’m… Probably more satisfied by that than I should be.” Tim let himself admit, feeling something like pride curling in his gut. Maybe a hint of possessiveness. “Hopefully you can walk right again by tomorrow.”

Jack glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, raising a brow, and if Tim wasn’t mistaken he was turning a little red beneath the mask. “So, what, you like that I can’t walk right right now?”

“I like that I managed to do that to you, yeah.”

They watched each other, silently, out of the corners of their eyes for a moment.

Then, laughing a little again, Jack ran a hand through his hair, “Can’t blame you, I guess ― think I’d be a little smug about doing it to you, too.”

There was a silence between them, and despite the way he felt like he was having his heart squished between two metal slabs, it was comfortable.


End file.
